Floating
by NotAlone87
Summary: Blaine Anderson has no doubt to his heterosexuality. Kurt has no doubt to the fact that he needs an anchor. "Kurt was my anchor, and now that he's gone, I feel like I'm floating"
1. Talk Down My Walls

{A/N}

Hey guys! I'm Dana, your author. :) I hope you guys like this story, Review! :D

_Italics= Phone call_

**Bold= Blaine text**

Underlined= Kurt text.

ENJOY! :)

* * *

"Sorry" Kurt mumbled as he rushed to pick up the stranger's books that had fallen when he had bumped into him.

"Don't worry about it." The stranger replied. They hurried to make sure their electronics were still functioning, and they stood up and moved on. Little did Kurt know that Blaine Anderson was not somebody who could just walk out of his life. No, Blaine Anderson had a way of becoming the most vital part of a person, even if it bloomed from something as simple as a misplaced phone…

* * *

Kurt was awakened by his beeping phone. Actually, as he discovered, it was not _his_ beeping phone at all. It was _a_ beeping phone. A beeping _IPhone _with a checkered case. He recognized the incoming call as _his_ phone. Before he could answer it, though, it stopped ringing.

"Great" Kurt said, rolling over onto his stomach. He quickly called voicemail and listened to the message:

"_Hey. Umm… You don't know me but uhh… I think we accidently-switched phones. I own a black IPhone, and right now I'm calling my number from a Droid. I think it's yours because I remember bumping into somebody today; it must have been you and I guess picked up the wrong phone. Well, call me back if that's true, but if it's not, uhh, sorry for bothering you. Oh, and umm, my name is Blaine. Bye."_

The NYADA workload had surely taken a toll on Kurt's sanity, and this only added to that. Kurt had said all through high school that he would never hit that wall that he would be so overwhelmed with work that he would be pulling all-nighters on a daily basis.

Wall hit.

Kurt had always worked hard. No matter how much he liked to say that his moisturizing routine kept him much too busy to bother with homework, he could remember occasions where he was up till midnight doing French homework, living on Red Bull. Now he was in one of the country's most prestigious academies of drama, and Kurt had never remembered a time when he was so _tired. _

Not only was Kurt physically tired, but he was emotionally tired. The taunting that was haunting him from high school was holding him back now. Even when kids tried to be nice, it felt like pity. Kind of like they thought, "_oh, there's a kid_ _sitting alone in the corner who has a hard knock case of the gay face. I'm gonna sit with him."_ Kurt's eyes, to his eternal dismay, had formed large purple circles on the skin beneath them. His skin was its natural state of waxy, and he was well on his way of getting his freshman fifteen. Kurt Hummel was officially screwed. And phoneless.

And in his world, that's pretty much the same thing.

Kurt called back with a burning frustration that he needed to take out on something- anything. But he decided not to take his anger out on the person possessing his $200 phone.

"_Hey… Sorry about not picking up, your phone stopped ringing. You were right, we switched phones. Sorry about that. My name's Kurt, and I am a college student at NYADA, so if you could swing by one day we could switch back. Talk to you later."_

Kurt slammed his head against his pillow. Rachel bounced in carrying a tray of steaming sausages.

"Hey, honey. Eat something." Rachel purred. Kurt was silent and motionless. "Aww, sweetie, do you wanna ditch class and have a Barbra marathon? I've got Funny Girl, The Way We Were…" Kurt snapped, the anger was coursing through his body like poison, and came out of him like a white-hot flame.

"I CAN'T Rachel!" Kurt shouted, suddenly vocal. "I have an essay for Choral History, I have to master a routine for Dance through the Ages, and I have to somehow find time to be a secretary for one of the most esteemed fashion designers in the country, maintain a social life, and, oh yeah, stay awake while doing all of that. And now, on top of the bitch that is my life, my phone is lost. My body is shit, and my grades are slipping, so no, Rachel, I can't just 'ditch class'. Not all of us were as fortunate as you to be born with the voice of an angel and win one of the most acclaimed talent competitions in New York City as a freshman." Kurt ranted on a seemingly never-ending drag of breath. Rachel was speechless.

"Do I really have the voice of an angel?" She whispered.

Kurt stormed out, with Rachel's pleas of apology floating out with him as the door slammed.

* * *

Blaine contentedly breathed in the fresh, crisp Manhattan air on his way to 'The History of Law'. Blaine's father had let him go to a music school on one condition, that he took at least two business or law courses. "You have got to be practical, Blaine." His father had said. Practicality had never been Blaine's forte. His father had even made him get a job assisting a local firm. He was just answering the switchboards now, but his father was making him aspire (aka: ass-kiss) his way to junior assistant. His mother had a different view of the world. "No dreamer is ever too small, no dream is ever too big." His mother had whispered in his ear the day he went on the train to New York. "Never live up too anyone's standards. Go out there, and show the world your own." She had said. Blaine had since tried not to follow in a path. Per his mother's request, he was leaving a trail instead. With a 'YOLO' attitude, he had asked his girlfriend of four months to move in with him into his shoebox apartment. (The only perk to having a job since freshman year, he didn't have to deal with dorms anymore.) Was it immoral to have her living with him at age 21? Maybe, but Blaine followed his heart, not his religion. She was great, and it had felt right since the day she moved in.

"Hey Blaine. Can I see your notes for Business 101?" said Erik as Blaine walked through the doors of the Swift hall. Erik was Blaine's best friend at Manhattan School of Music. Erik had come out to Blaine the day they had met as roommates.

"This is who I am, and if you have a problem with it, I won't be offended if you leave." Erik had declared blatantly. Blaine had immediately reassured him that he was completely okay with that, and they had been inseparable ever since. They were so close everyone automatically assumed they were partners, and Blaine would never forget the time when his girlfriend was there for one of these accusations:

"Listen, me and Blaine over here have been getting it on for months now, so you have two choices here. You can either walk away slowly, and I will spare you of being humiliated by watching me go all Lindsey Lohan on your ass, or I can _vividly _describe to you _each and every _detail of the nooner me and Blaine just finished. The choice it yours." Needless to say, he chose the former.

"Uhh… yeah. Here ya' go." Blaine said, handing him his notes, willing himself to stop staring at his dark brown eyes, and his thick eyelashes…

"Mr. Anderson, a word." said Mrs. Carter tonelessly. Mrs. Carter was your typical law professor. Gray hair elegantly swooped up in a bun, and spectacles perched on her nose, slightly hiding her deducing eyes. Her lips were covered in cheap, red lipstick and permanently formed into a thin, straight line. Blaine followed her obediently.

Mrs. Carter led him into her office, and poured two cups of coffee. Blaine had always preferred a medium drip to the usual decaf laid before him, but he sipped the bitter, black drink just to moisten his throat, which had gone as dry as sawdust.

"Mr. Anderson, it is my understanding from looking at your high school transcripts from the Dalton School for Boys that you are a generally stellar student, and looking at your grades from other classes here proves that statement as well. Yet, your grade in my class has been a high D, low C since September. If you don't get your grades up soon, your going to fail my class this semester, which could greatly decrease your chances of graduating, or getting a law involving job later in life. You're headed down a slippery slope, Mr. Anderson, and it's my job to get you off of it." Mrs. Carter concluded defiantly. Blaine deflated.

"Look, Mrs. Carter, no offense, the profession you teach is one of the most respected where I come from, but I wouldn't even be taking this course if it wasn't for my father. I'm a performer. I have no intention whatsoever of having any other profession." Blaine stated flatly.

"That being so, Blaine," Blaine sat up a bit. She had never called him by his first name before. "A grade is a grade, and a class is a class, despite your personal feelings on the subject. Now, here is some material I want you to read before the exam in two weeks. It will help you. If you study it hard enough, you should be able to scrape by with a B." Mrs. Carter asserted. Blaine had no choice but to take the articles in Mrs. Carter's bony hands.

"I hope you choose to study them, Mr. Anderson. You have real potential if performing doesn't work o-" Blaine didn't let her finish. He had heard this warning too many times before.

"It's going to happen. Just you watch." He declared truculently. Mrs. Carter nodded, but the look in her eyes showed doubt. Everyone thought Blaine was naïve. But what his mother had taught him was that there was a difference between being naïve and being a dreamer.

Blaine was the latter.

After escaping back to his dorm, he cursed loudly when seeing that he had missed a call from the person with his IPhone. After listening to the voice mail, he called back, only to find another answering machine.

"_Hey, Kurt. It's Blaine. I'm in Northern Manhattan too; I'll run by NYADA in the next couple days. Please get back to me soon; text me if you want. My phone is kind of my life. Thanks. Bye." _Blaine was sick of this telephone tag. He just wanted his phone back.

What Blaine didn't know was that he would be getting a lot more than his phone back from the same source…

* * *

"Hey, Blaine. Sorry, I was in class when you called. That sounds good, the phone returning, I mean. Just text me when you're here and I'll meet you somewhere. And I know what you mean; my phone is my life too. Are you a college student?" 

Kurt texted this without any intention of hearing back for a while. To his surprise, a reply was shot into the Droid only minutes later.

"**Hey Kurt. Yeah, I'm a college student. I go to TMSOM. Are you a freshman at NYADA?"**

Kurt excitedly texted back. Here was someone, a boy, who was talking to Kurt out of true willingness, and not out of pity.

"Yeah, I am. WBU?"

Blaine, again, responded quickly.

"**I'm a junior. How are you liking college so far?"**

Kurt was shocked. He had _never_ been this voluntarily talked to by anyone besides Rachel. He responded like lightning.

"It's pretty good. Tiring, but anything is better than Ohio." 

Kurt talked with pure apathy about his hometown. Anyone who had ever lived in Ohio would agree with him that Ohio was one of the worst places in the world to be different. And Kurt was _very_ different.

"**Get out! I'm from Ohio too! What area?" **

Kurt's mouth dropped. Ohio was so small they were probably cousins. Kurt typed furiously.

"Wow! I'm from Lima. I went to McKinley High."

Kurt not so patiently waited for a reply that came within the minute.

"**That's so cool! My girlfriend went to McKinley! Her name's Santana, maybe you know her?"**


	2. I Knew I Loved You

**Bold**: Blaine Text

_Italics_: Kurt Text

Underlined: Santana Text

Enjoy!

* * *

Kurt's mouth dropped. His hands trembled as they attempted to answer to the bombshell of a text.

"…_Santana Lopez?"_ Kurt texted.

Kurt looked at the name and his blood curdled. How many times had she shoved him into lockers, given him slushie facials, and making (admittedly clever) nicknames for him in Glee Club? Even on the podium as he graduated high school, looking over at her, Kurt still didn't understand why she even joined Glee Club in the first place. She was the complete opposite of everything Glee Club celebrated: Individuality. Santana Lopez was a cookie-cutter bitch, and Kurt had never hesitated to say so. Kurt didn't understand what was holding him back now…

"**Yeah! Lemme ask her if she knows you… What's your last name again?" **Blaine's reply shot into Kurt's phone. The combination of fear, anger, and vengeance ran through his body in an icy wave. He knew what had to be done.

"_It's 'Lady Hummel' to her." _Kurt volleyed back with intended sarcasm and wrath. Kurt almost fainted when seeing the rebuttal:

"**HEY, LADY LIPS! Hit puberty yet****?**" Kurt could hear her distinctive snide tone to every word in the message. To spite himself, he texted back.

"_Nah, Sandbags. Pregnant yet?" _Kurt looked with pride at his stellar comeback. Was it mean? Maybe. But Kurt still had not forgiven anyone who had not apologized for being a douche to him. Like he always said: 'Forgive, but remember the bastard's name.'

"**Woah, is someone on their period or something?"** Kurt was about to counter when another text shot into the phone.

"**I'm so sorry Kurt... I don't know what she's talking about... Probably just moody... Maybe we could all meetup to switch back phones? Like a reunion for you two! :) Actually, tonight at 9 I'm playing a gig... Santana's coming. We could meet up there and get dinner. It's Westerfield Road between 6th and 7th. Can you come?"**

Kurt wanted to say no, to meet up just the two of them, or just to keep each others phones forever, _anything _to avoid meeting up with the spawn of Satan herself. But he had no choice.

"_Yeah... I'll be there. :)"_

How could someone as sweet as Blaine be going out with someone as hateful as Santana? Of course, she was pretty, and that got her around, but Kurt had never actually heard her refer to anyone as her 'boyfriend'. Kurt's mind was numb and throbbing, so he flounced back of his bed and closed his distressed, narrowed eyes, almost immediately falling asleep despite the untouched homework piled on the foot of his bed.

* * *

After a quick peck on Santana's lips, Blaine ran out of the apartment and grabbed a taxi. He had to go to work.

His father was completely ignorant to this, but Blaine had two jobs. One as the assistant lawyer at the firm, and one at Maggiano's. Mr. Anderson would not condone of Blaine working in a place so demoting, but Blaine loved it. Most of the time, he was a waiter, but every Thursday, Blaine would lug his guitar to the restaurant, and play a two hour set. It was a good gig, $200 a night, plus tips, and countless 'come hither' looks from various lonely girls. Most of the set would be his own spin on whatever was on the top 40 that week, but every couple of songs he would sneak in whatever original piece he was working on. Most of them were about personal uncertainty, a subject of which was pressing down on Blaine like a thick sheet of glass.

Blaine was attracted to guys sometimes.

… or a lot.

It didn't matter if he was with Santana or not. If a cute boy was sitting in front of them in the movie theater while they were making out, you better believe Blaine's amber eyes would be firmly locked on the boy. Blaine seldom understood it. He had never questioned his sexuality in his life. It was like a formula in his mind : Boy + Girl = Happily ever after. Blaine was not a homophobe, but so few people in Ohio were gay that he never thought that he might be one of about 10 in the state that were not straight. Nowhere in the formula does it take into account the possibility of uncertainty or doubt. Blaine had tried pushing the thoughts away, but the question beckoned still, and he didn't know how much longer he could postpone seeking the answer.

Nobody knew of this dubiety, though. Not even, _especially_ not Santana. Santana was everything Blaine could've hoped to find in a women, and he didn't want to be at risk of losing her just because of a tiny personal struggle, (even if that struggle could affect whether he was actually attracted to her or not.)

Blaine pushed his guitar strap back on his shoulder as he walked down Westerfield road. The frigid November air ran its jaded fingers through Blaine's hair. Finally reaching Maggiano's, Blaine immediately looked around for anyone who looked like a Kurt. "_Maybe he's cute." _Blaine thought shamefully. As if on cue, his phone buzzed.

"_Running late. Be there in a sec." _Blaine grinned at the text. Santana was coming at about the same time. He felt good about being the connecting link between two long lost friends.

Santana arrived a bit earlier than expected, wearing a bright blue pencil dress and a leather jacket. She ignored the immediate catcalls and strutted over to Blaine.

"You're gonna do great, babe. You always do. Good luck!" Santana piped, applying a soft kiss to Blaine's stubbly cheek. He always got a pre-show pep talk from her before a gig.

Suddenly, the door's of the restaurant split open to reveal a boy wearing a white, button up shirt with an unbuttoned black vest hanging leniently over it. His hair was mussed, standing up in subtle spikes. Blaine's breath caught in his throat at the sight of him. Luckily, Santana was in the kitchen sneaking some food and didn't notice the enchanted look on Blaine's face at the sight of Kurt.

Blaine, knocking himself out of the chasm, waved over to Kurt. Kurt immediately saw him, but looked unfazed at the sight of him.

"Hey." Kurt said tonelessly. Blaine stared at his beautiful, oceanic eyes until he realized Kurt was waiting for a response.

"Oh, hey! Sorry, I'm exhausted. Uh... finals are this week." Blaine lied quickly. Kurt nodded skeptically.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. Here." Kurt said curtly, handing him his phone with a businesslike manner. It was unscathed, and even seemed to be polished as all the scuff and oil marks were gone. Blaine grabbed Kurt's phone out of his pocket, and handed it to him, feeling guilty that he hadn't had it buffed or anything.

"Thanks." Kurt said flatly. Blaine didn't know what or how he was feeling this way. He wanted to figure it out, but his set was starting. He ran up on the stage to the cheers of many regulars and Santana.

"Hey... Um, for those of you who don't know me, my name's Blaine and I'm gonna be playing you some music today.

He started out with the basics, Call me Maybe, Viva La Vida, Teenage Dream, the audience favorites. Then, he had an idea. Blaine had never been a man of words, but of song. He quickly looked up chords on his shiny phone, and sat down on the provided stool.

"I'm gonna play a song that you might not know... but it means a lot to me right now." and to throw anyone suspicious off the trail, he added, "this song is dedicated to my girlfriend" he said sheepishly.

"_Maybe it's intuition _

_But some things you just don't question_

_Like in your eyes, I see my future in an instant_

_And there it goes,_  
_I think I found my best friend_  
_I know that it might sound_  
_More than a little crazy_  
_But I believe_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I think I dreamed you into life_  
_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I have been waiting all my life_

_There's just no rhyme or reason_  
_Only the sense of completion_  
_And in your eyes, I see_  
_The missing pieces I'm searching for_  
_I think I've found my way home_  
_I know that it might sound_  
_More than a little crazy_  
_But I believe_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I think I dreamed you into life_  
_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I have been waiting all my life_

_A thousand angels dance around you_  
_I am complete now that I've found you_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I think I dreamed you into life_  
_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I have been waiting all my life_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I think I dreamed you into life_  
_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I have been waiting all my life"_

As the crowd cheered, Santana the loudest, Blaine hoped with all his heart that no one noticed that he had been staring at Kurt the entire song.

* * *

Hope ya'll liked it! Reviews make me puke rainbows :)

oh, the song was I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden :)


	3. Being So Close

**FLOATING **

**BEING SO CLOSE (Chapter 3)**

**BY NOTALONE87**

Remember:

**Bold**: Blaine Text

_Italics_: Kurt Text

It might get a _tiny _bit angsty, but i promise I won't be another fic with a crying!Kurt and a comforting!Blaine. It's overdone. Anyway, enjoy! :)

* * *

**"Hey... I know it's kinda weird that I'm still texting you... but it was a lot of fun meeting you and since we didn't get to hang out a lot I was wondering if you wanted to meet up again. Me and Santana are going to this AWESOME indoor pool later today... wanna come? :)"**

The distinctive buzz that represented a text came hurtling into Kurt's ears faster and more powerful than he could've expected, even with a hangover that could slay a walrus. After meeting Santana again, Kurt's self esteem had plummeted so low that he had seen no other choice than to get absolutely wasted. He was regretting this choice as his head pounded with the strength of a boulder ramming itself against his skull.

He texted his resentful consent, and was given the directions and time. He rolled over in his bed, trying desperately to regain his slumber, but was unsuccessful as the bright, merciless sun was strewn into Kurt's room through the cracked blinds.

Hateful toward all light, Kurt dragged himself to the kitchen where Brody and Rachel were eating a buffet of breakfast foods. Sausages, eggs, coffee, fruit, bagels. The table was so crammed with foods Kurt doubted he could fit his plate on the table. He started to wonder what the occasion was, but then remembered with a slight roll of his eyes and a grin.

"Happy birthday, Rachel." Kurt murmured with a jagged voice so unlike his own. Rachel smiled toothily, and after a hug and a pitch-perfect rendition of 'Happy Birthday', Kurt sat down and nibbled on some scrambled eggs.

When Brody went off to retrieve his present, Kurt recollected the previous nights details to Rachel. She didn't even know that Santana was in the same vicinity as her, much less that Kurt had been in contact with her. She was horror struck.

"Oh my god... Kurt... Santana... I just..." Rachel looked down at her tight pencil skirt and her black fishnet shirt. She twirled her newly-highlighted hair. Kurt knew she was remembering a time when she was without all this glamour. It scared her.

Santana was a physical representation of the worst time of her and Kurt had ever been through. Even though New York was amazing, and it had swept all their worries away with with a single breath of the magic-like air, Kurt knew in both her and him, there was a trace of fear. It's hard to trust the best once you've seen the worst.

"Kurt... I think you need to break off all ties with this Blaine guy. I know he seems nice and all, but I can't risk having a ghost from my past follow me to the place where I plan to start my career, and life. I don't want to take that chance for you, either. The things she knows could ruin us. Broadway producers have a tough choice for casting, and unless our records are 100% squeaky clean, we're blackballed for life. So please, Kurt, for your own sake and mine, just stop all contact. Please." Rachel pleaded with a kind of articulation, it was as if she had a script.

"Okay, Rachel. I'll cut it off. Actually, they invited me to a pool later today. I'll tell them then." Kurt said, his voice still rough around the edges. Rachel seemed dismayed by another meeting at all, but agreed.

A few hours later, with Kurt in a much more casual ensemble, with his swim trunks in his bag, he said a quick goodbye to Rachel as she squealed over the golden tennis bracelet Brody had somehow acquired for her, (even further convincing Kurt that he was a drug dealer).

Kurt grabbed a taxi outside the loft, and checked his phone, only to find another text from the very person he was supposed to be breaking off connection with.

**"I can't wait to see you! :) You're gonna love it!" **

Even though it had been of the lowest precedence to Kurt in the last few days, Kurt had to admit that Blaine was a matter worth thinking about.

He was very, very cute.

With his golden eyes, subtly curly hair, and cut physique, Blaine seemed like a poster that a 13 year old girl might hang on their wall. Kurt wasn't a predatory gay, so he kept his staring to a minimum, but _my god, _his smile when he was performing was breathtaking.

It seemed unnoticeable to anybody else, but Kurt thought Blaine had been looking directly at him when he was singing his last song. It was a song about sudden, fearful love . Something that Kurt should be singing to Blaine about, if anybody. But there was no time to analyze his motives at the moment, because Kurt had arrived at the _Big Apple Indoor Pool. _

Kurt was hit with the strong smell of chlorine as soon as he stepped out of the cab. As he walked in, he was greeted with the shadows of Blaine and Santana, coming out to meet him.

"Ah, so The Mayor of Gaytown decided to come. Why the tardiness? Have a meeting with Adam Lambert? You know, maybe we'll finally see if he's really a girl when he changes into his bathing suit. Just to clarify, if you _do _turn out to be a lady, your name will be Winklevii." Santana drawled.

After Santana was done with the rest of her speech that could turn Mr. Rogers suicidal, they all escaped into their respective locker rooms.

"Santana's quite the..." Kurt struggled for an honest but tolerable word. "She's quite a character, that's for sure," Blaine said chuckling. "But she's worth it."

As Blaine started to change, Kurt childishly turned away, instantly regretting it when Blaine chuckled again. Kurt, embarrassed, stumbled into a bathroom stall to change.

When Kurt walked out, he was face to face with Blaine, both of them naked from the waist up. Before Kurt could start salivating at the carved figure standing in front of him, he rushed out of the locker room. Kurt gasped as he saw who was waiting for them with Santana.

Rachel and Brody stood like statues behind Santana who was tapping her foot. When she saw the boys she threw up her arms in disgust.

"What, did you write a novel in there while I had to deal with hobbit and Ken over here? Let's go, public swim is only for another hour!" Santana barked. As she and Blaine linked fingers, Kurt trailed behind with Rachel.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt hissed to the bikini-clad Rachel. Staring at Brody's abs didn't exactly improve his self confidence, and Kurt could only imagine the quips Santana would make now that Rachel was here. _"Hanging with a girl all the time won't convince people that you're not Roger Simmons twin, Hummel."_

"I wanted to make sure she didn't pull anything," Rachel whispered calmly. "I don't trust that girl."

"Like I do?" Kurt muttered as they walked into the elaborate pool complex.

There was a diving well with one high dive and one low dive. There were four water slides, and an umbrella statue sat in one well that poured water from its spouts. There were also a couple of freestyle wells. "_Impressive._" thought Kurt.

"Oh... Sorry. This is my roommate, Rachel and her boyfriend Brody." Kurt introduced to Blaine. He thought he heard a mutter from Rachel saying "... not my boyfriend." but the four were already off.

Blaine and Santana bounded for the waterslides, while Rachel and Brody headed toward one of the free swim wells. Kurt sighed. He was the 5th wheel. He should've expected this.

He trudged to the diving well. He had always appreciated the satisfying _crack _of the water as his body tumbled into the crystal oblivion.

It wasn't a very long line, thankfully. Kurt felt much too vulnerable without his upper body covered. There were still bruises from high school. But Kurt realized that he was constantly and desperately trying to hide the scars on him, and inside of him.

The difference between the two were that only one would heal.

After bounding up the ladder to the high dive in a frantic attempt of escaping the upsetting thoughts and leaving them in the water he was about to plunge into, it happened.

A deafening crack hit Kurt's ears before he had one toe in the water. He felt himself falling, and the diving board trailing him all the way down. The last thing he felt was a liquid relief, washing over his whole body. Then it all went black.

* * *

The next thing Kurt felt was his aching limbs. Then, before he could even open his throbbing eyes, he felt a muscular, protective arm pin him down, and then he felt a firm pair of lips slam against his own. Enjoying the sensation, he opened his eyes only a crack to find a pair of golden ones locked with his.

Immediately ending the kiss, Blaine stood up and helped Kurt up. Still in an ignorant trance, Kurt wobbled around. His head was pounding, and it was nothing to do with his lingering hangover.

"You alright, Kurt? The uh... the diving board broke and bruised you up pretty good." Blaine stammered guiltily. Kurt fingered his throbbing scalp, immediately reaching a large bump that seared with pain at the touch. Kurt's eyes welled up, but all he did was sit down on the nearest bench and put his head in his palms, trying to regain stability.

Blaine and Rachel took seats on either side of him, arms at the ready to prevent a fall. Kurt's world was beginning to come back into focus, and suddenly the realization of the moments events dawned on him:

He and Blaine had kissed. No matter the motives or the reason, they had kissed. Despite still regaining his balance and trying to wipe the traces of fogginess out of his mind, Kurt quickly stood up.

"Just forgot... NYADA paper... due tomorrow... gotta go." He stuttered. Hastily grabbing a towel and wiping his face with it, Kurt ran out of the building without changing.

* * *

Blaine spent the remainder of the free swim sitting on the bench, contemplating the situation. He had never acted on his feelings of liking boys before. Then again, this was CPR. Not a kiss. But by Blaine's book, if a pair of lips were touching another pair of lips, it was a kiss.

When free swim ended, Blaine was as confused as ever. Especially when Santana pecked him on the lips, it felt wrong. But Blaine noticed that it didn't feel wrong by itself. It felt wrong comparatively...

_"STOP IT! Santana is amazing and-"_ But Blaine stopped himself and thought. Just because Santana was amazing didn't mean he loved her. And right now, he was feeling far from it.

After flagging down a cab, Santana insisted on sitting on Blaine's lap. He stroked her hair instinctively, but his mind was far from the girl wrapped around him. Blaine's imagination was killing him until the soft music seeping from the car stereo's reached him.

_"What hurts the most..._  
_is being so close..._  
_and having so much to say,_  
_and watching you walk away"_

Blaine realized that no matter how much he wanted to deny it, he had some capacity of feelings for Kurt. And unless he faced that, he was going to keep getting closer and closer, but only courage could get him there.

* * *

Review :)


	4. Demons

**Hope ya'll like OC's cause Erik's back! Also, in case you hadn't noticed, every chapter has a song in it, and the chapter is named after a lyric or the song title. Just for clarification. Enjoy, and review for more! :)**

**DEMONS**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**BY NOTALONE87**

* * *

When Blaine awoke the next morning, there was a peaceful Latina girl sound asleep on his chest. After carefully removing her from his chest, he escaped into the kitchen. He looked outside the window, initially thinking it was just a dreary day, but looking at the clock told him otherwise. It was 6:15 A.M.

After drinking the dregs of yesterday's coffee, Blaine poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. He plopped himself on the well-worn armchair and munched absentmindedly.

After coming to terms with his feelings for Kurt, Blaine had felt so anxious that Santana would _sense_ it or something. After they got home, he was so plagued with fear that the only thing he said to her was; "I'm going to bed." When she joined him, his nervousness only grew.

Would she notice if he didn't stroke her hair the same way? Would she realize if he didn't have the same breathing pattern? Blaine didn't want to take any chances, so he migrated to the couch, only to realize that solitude was the only thing worse than company at the moment.

After much debate, he finally settled on the bed where Santana then used him as a pillow, to Blaine's mortification. He had only fallen asleep an hour before he woke.

Santana trudged out of the bedroom only a moment after Blaine finished his cereal. Blaine quickly sat up, and instantly stood up and pecked her on the cheek, as he did every morning. But today it felt so forced, so obligatory.

"Hey, babe. Why are you up so early?" Santana drawled, her voice thick with roughness.

"Oh, I just couldn't stay asleep. What about you?" Blaine said almost robotically, making it seem like the sympathy was compulsory. He hoped Santana didn't catch on to that, but Blaine knew she would. She was a smart girl.

"I need something warm under me to sleep." She said, stifling a sleepy grin. Blaine forced a chuckle, even though his insides were trembling. This information threatened to explode like a bomb, except a bomb was quicker. And you knew how much time you had left. Blaine's bomb was indefinite.

"You okay, baby? You seem tense." Santana asked. Blaine realized that he had been subconsciously biting his nails. He dragged his hand resentfully from his mouth. What was he worrying about? He was making a big deal out of nothing. He had heard all kinds of stories about 'questioning' people who had turned out 100% straight. They all say it was just a phase. _"Yeah. You're not gay," _Blaine thought. _"You just think Kurt's cute. Totally normal. It's just a phase, just a phase, just a-"_

"BLAINE!" Santana shouted snapping her fingers. "God damn! Where _did_ you go off to? I was saying 'are you alright' for like, five minutes!" Santana demanded. Only then did Blaine realize he hadn't answered her question.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Maybe I need… more sleep." He mumbled, trailing off.

Santana nodded and trudged off to the kitchen for coffee. Blaine exhaled and let himself deflate back onto the couch. He needed to figure this out... he needed to get away for awhile...

"Hey, babe, I'm going for a walk." Blaine said timidly, his whole body aquiver. Santana merely nodded dismissively and turned her attention back to her breakfast. Blaine quickly pulled on a clean t-shirt and waited for a moment, expecting Santana to suddenly figure out his motives.

But she stayed silent.

Blaine opened the door hesitantly. "Well... See you later." he stepped out the door into the still-dark world.

The air was frigid, even for a New York winter day. The cold wind caressed Blaine, the icy jet of arctic air seeping its way into his veins, streaming through his body.

Blaine flagged down a taxi and asked him to take him to 302 West 45th street. There was someone he needed to see.

* * *

Kurt woke up with his boyfriend pillow snugly fit around his neck. He sighed, feeling absolutely pathetic. He quickly unslung it from his neck, and trudged to the kitchen where Brody and Rachel were sitting, happily munching on scrambled eggs and bacon. Rachel was wearing a tight blue one-shoulder top, paired with a black, sequined pencil skirt. Brody was naked.

"Hey, buddy. There's this pamphlet about this great new thing called clothing. You should really pick it up." Kurt groaned, thinking of the $100 chairs that were now soiled. Before Brody could counter, Rachel stepped in.

"Pick your battles, sweetie. Now, Kurt. Did you tell him?" Rachel said, he gaze going from Brody to Kurt.

"Tell who what?" Kurt said, biting into a piece of toast. Even though he had asked, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what Rachel was wondering.

"Blaine, that you can't talk to him anymore." Rachel said plainly, but her eyes were beginning to glow with fret.

"Well I would've told him, but you know sometimes you forget things when a diving board breaks and _falls on you." _Kurt said, surprised that she hadn't even expressed concern if he was feeling better before she dived right into her own personal agenda.

"Oh, come on. The doctor said you were fine. Now, I want you to call him right now and tell him that it's done, whatever you two are." Rachel asserted, finishing her eggs. When Kurt sat motionless, Rachel rolled her eyes and went over to him.

"I know he's cute, but he's not worth it." She whispered. Kurt nodded, but his mind was far away from the message.

Kurt, for some unexplainable reason, felt like Blaine was one of the only people in his life whom the mere presence of could make him smile. He didn't even know why, he barely knows him; he's never even been one on one with him. _'That's it.' _He thought.

"Okay, Rachel," Kurt agreed. "I'll call him right now." Picking up his phone, Kurt knew with Rachel listening, he was going to have to play this very smooth to pull it off. Dialing the number, Rachel sat down right next to him. Blaine picked up.

"Hey, Blaine. I'm really sorry I had to leave yesterday, there was this crazy important essay I had to do. You understand, right?" Kurt spoke loud enough for Rachel to hear every word, but soft enough to sound sincere to Blaine.

"Yeah, totally. How are you? You looked pretty bruised up and stuff. What'd the doctor say? You're not going to press charges, are you?" Blaine blathered. Kurt chuckled.

"One thing at a time, Oprah. I'm fine, the doctor said just to ice my head and relax, and no I'm not pressing charges. It's not your fault." Kurt said, chuckling.

Rachel gestured and gave him a look that said 'Small talk is for talk shows and politicians.' Kurt shot her one of his world famous; 'Bitch please' glares.

"That's good. So what did you call about?" Blaine asked politely. Kurt sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"Well... I-" Suddenly, Kurt started a sudden, very fake-sounding coughing fit. It went on for 10, 20, 30 seconds. Finally, with Blaine silenced on the other line, Rachel rolled her eyes and got up to get him some water.

"I think that we should hang out. Just the two of us. Tonight. I know this great little Italian place down on Broadway." Kurt talked hastily and in an almost incoherent whisper. He crossed his fingers behind his back. Blaine was quiet for at least a minute.

"Sure. I can make it. You said... Just the two of us?" Blaine asked, his voice ever so slightly trembling.

"Yes." Kurt said with finality in his voice, hoping he got the hint to not bring his devil of a girlfriend. Again, quiet on the other line.

"Okay. I'll be there." Blaine declared just as Rachel came back in. Knowing how to seal the deal on both sides, Kurt spoke.

"I'm sorry it's so sudden." Kurt went on, knowing that the two people listening were taking this statement very differently.

"It's fine. See you tonight." Blaine piped, the dapper confidence back in his voice.

"Yeah." Kurt stammered, feeling lame, but not knowing what else to say. Blaine hung up first, so Kurt just closed his phone, his body slumped over and his face full of fake sorrow. Rachel rubbed his back supportively.

"It was the right thing. I don't want people to judge us by our pasts... because we don't live there anymore." Rachel said, her voice vacant and quiet. Kurt just nodded, simultaneously thinking; "_Wow, you're so deep, I can't even see you anymore'._

"Well, yeah. Whatever. Oh, by the way, my cousin is in town and we're having dinner tonight." Kurt said, praying that she wouldn't put two and two together. But at the moment, she was too absorbed to read the writing on the wall.

"Yeah, yeah. Me and Brody are going out too." she said, her voice still far off in the distance, her eyes clouded with reminiscence. Kurt was about to walk away when Rachel started crying. Only a moment later, the tears were coming down in huge, wretched sobs.

"Honey, what's the matter?" Kurt said, his voice sincere.

"Seeing Santana, and seeing you everyday, it's just..." Rachel let out another heaving sob. "All these ghosts..." she said, the tears finally subsiding as she pulled herself together. Her overload of mascara was all over her face now, making her look like some kind of rabid raccoon.

Still recovering, Rachel sauntered off to her bedroom, immediately turning up her stereo full blast to her "Misunderstood" playlist.

"_I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone._

_I long for that feeling to not feel at all._

_The higher I get, the lower I'll sink._

_I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim."_

As Kurt heard the word swim, he rubbed his temple. But something else crossed his still-throbbing mind. He realized that he was slowly but surely, somehow, becoming a better swimmer than his demons.

* * *

Jumping out of the taxi, Blaine was face to face with a ratty apartment. And when he said ratty, it wasn't just from his wealthy perspective. No, the paint was peeling, all the doors creaked, and the electricity was on a dime and usually went out a dozen times a day. Blaine knocked the door, which immediately sent a few spiders crawling out onto the welcome mat, obviously disturbed from their resting. The door shot open at once, with a deafening rasp.

"Hey, Blaine. Come on in." Erik said, his hair mussed up and wearing sweatpants and an old Aerosmith t-shirt. Blaine walked into a complete array of mess. When he had been a roommate with Erik, he had been so messy that Blaine actually missed some of his classes just to clean it up. Being with someone as neat as Santana was much more settling. Even though he'd always deny it, Blaine was a bit of a neat freak.

"Hey, Erik. I thought you would be the best person to talk to about... This." Blaine said, willing himself to be vague.

"About... What, exactly?" Erik asked ignorantly. Saying this out loud was a foreign concept to Blaine, so he decided just to start with a question.

"How did you know you were gay?" Blaine blurted blatantly, his eyes swimming with vex and uncertainty. He was debating whether or not to just get up and go home. But before he could stand, Erik spoke.

"Well, I knew when I was 13. I was in this movie theater with my girlfriend, and she started like, making out with me. It honestly felt like dog slobber. And I couldn't stop staring at this guy in front of us, wishing I was kissing him instead." Erik addressed. Blaine's chest felt like it was under a lead vest because of all the times that exact situation had happened to him.

"That was the moment I knew. So I apologized, and walked right out of the theater." Erik finished, shrugging. Blaine sat there, deflated, like he was a dead horse currently being beaten.

"So... Questioning, huh?" Erik said with a knowing smile, but it slipped off his face after seeing Blaine's face full of despair.

"Hey... man, you'll be fine. You're in New York... you know, it's legal..." Erik trailed off, unable to find more comforting words.

"I don't _want_ to be gay!" Blaine shouted, his eyes fogged with tears. "I _want _to love Santana, I don't _want _people judging me, and I don't _want _to be in love with Kurt!" Blaine screamed, his voice rising in intensity with each of his fears.

He wasn't crying, but his eyes were blood red, and his voice was cracking, making every syllable severed.

"I would ask who Kurt is, but I don't think that's the best thing to bring up right now. Listen man, I know how hard it is. I know how much you don't want it, but it's who you are. I'm not saying you have to come to terms with that now, but I'm saying that you have to stop feeling like it can be changed." Erik spoke with elegance and nobility. Blaine would be grateful, but the truth of his words cut through him like a cold reality, making him detest the honesty of his statement.

Blaine wanted to express some form of thanks, despite his resentment, but he couldn't find the words or his voice, so he just nodded. Erik knew of Blaine's pride, so he just let it be.

"So, are you gonna see this 'Kurt' soon?" Erik asked with a serious look on his face that at any other time would've been replaced with a knowing smirk.

"Actually, tonight. He invited me to dinner." Blaine said with hesitation in his voice, not wanting to say it out loud. Vocality was a synonym for finality in Blaine's mind, and he wanted to unrealness of his predicament to last as long as possible. The panic on Blaine's face was like a tangible mask, touchable but unable to diminish or change.

"I know you, man. You've got so much courage. It's what made you ask out Santana, it's what made you move to New York, and it's what made you come over here today and tell me all this." Erik said, his voice full and doubtless. "No matter what happens tonight, or for the rest of your life, I _know_ you're gonna be just fine." Erik concluded, his voice not wavering once. It was because of this omniety that Blaine believed him. He would be fine. No matter what.

But as many people know, Blaine being one of them, getting rid of that little piece inside of doubt inside you is near impossible. But with Erik's confidence still fresh in Blaine, he knew that anything was possible.


	5. Trying Not to Love You

FLOATING

CHAPTER 5: "TRYING NOT TO LOVE YOU"

BY NOTALONE87

Hey, guys! Just four more chapters after this one! Here's the chapter! :)

* * *

Kurt was usually not an obsessive person when it came to fashion. Sure, he liked to look nice, but since all of his clothes were top-notch anyway, all he had to do was match them together. Very rarely did he get the stereotypical gay-man feeling of an inability to be satisfied with any outfit.

He had that feeling today, and it had hit him harder than ever before.

"RACHELLLLLL! WHERE'S MY GUCCI FEDORA?" Kurt screamed, poring over his closet, attempting desperately to find the fashionable hat. Rachel walked in, laughing and looking completely calm. Kurt had forgotten what serenity looked and felt like.

"Kurt, what are you freaking out about? These are your cousins, not James Bond." she said, still giggling. Kurt wished he could tell her that this dinner was the equivalent was Cinderella's ball, but there was no way in hell he was losing a shoe. They were Marc Jacobs.

"They're friends with a Broadway producer, Rachel." Kurt said, quickly thinking up a lie that would get Rachel interested. Her brown eyes widened underneath their pounds of eyeshadow. She immediately helped him dig through the mounds of clothing. "Well played, Kurt." Kurt thought with an internal smirk. "Well played."

* * *

Blaine had gone through 4 bottles of hair gel in the past hour. After his hair was starting to show signs of thinning from the excessive handling, he washed out the gel and sighed at his blatant curls. They would have to do.

Blaine walked out of his room silently, tip toeing across the kitchen in hopes Santana wouldn't see him leave in a designer suit for, in her eyes, no apparent reason.

No such luck.

"Hey, where are you going? Why do you look so fancy?" Santana said roughly, rubbing the sleep from her face. Blaine didn't want to lie, but he had no choice.

"Cousins. Going to uh... Dinner with them." He spat out, sounding completely fake. Somehow, despite her almost scary sense of hearing, Santana nodded it off, turning her attention back to the TV, that was quietly broadcasting the People's Choice Awards. Blaine left the house feeling sinfully victorious, but little did he know that Santana was watching him leave through the reflection in the TV, her knowing eyes wet with tears.

* * *

Kurt arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes early. To his expectation, Blaine hadn't arrived yet. The small restaurant was jam packed, and the noise was so loud that Kurt couldn't even hear himself talking to the person at the counter, who was refusing his entrance.

"I made a reservation." Kurt insisted, trying to talk over the bustling noise, wondering if the lady was homophobic.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel. I can't find your name in our computer. The minimum wait is two hours, unless you would like to rent our private room." The lady trailed off, obviously not expecting the response Kurt gave.

"I'll do it." He said, handing over his Visa. 'Thank God dad is the only car repairman in Lima, there is no way in hell I'm missing this dinner.' Kurt said, as the women handed him back his credit card, and lead him across the cramped restaurant.

They arrived in a room about half the size of the main one. It was bathed in candles, and there was a vase of a single role, resting calmly on the table. The doors must have been soundproof, because Kurt could have heard a pin drop despite the absolute mayhem happening only a few feet away/

"I'm sorry for the romantic set-up, it's usually rented by couples." The women said, giving Kurt a pitiful look, thinking he was here alone.

"No, no. My uh..." Kurt was reluctant to say the next word. "...Date should be here anytime. Could you tell him I'm here? His name is Blaine." Kurt instructed, not wanting to leave the serenity of this room into the chaos of the one he just escaped. The waiter nodded, and left wordlessly.

Kurt sauntered around the room, taking in the scent and stroking the flower that sat on the otherwise empty table. Two menu's lounged on one of the chairs. Before Kurt could pick one up to peruse, the door swung open, revealing the most breathtaking sight Kurt had ever seen.

Blaine's hair was freed of its usual gelled asylum, and his body was flattered with a black suit that looked like it was painted on. His eyes, somehow, were even more embellished and golden than they usually were, and Kurt wondered whether the flame in them was a trick of the light, or if it was really there.

"Hey." Blaine said, looking like he wanted to say something more. Not wanting to make the obviously uncomfortable Blaine feel even more awkward, Kurt just smiled and nodded instead of hugging him like he had planned to.

"I'm glad you could make it, is the traffic bad?" Kurt said politely, and Blaine lapped up the small talk like a starving dog with water out in front of him. After a bit more of the safe banter, Kurt brought up the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry about the uh... Romantic room. Trust me, I didn't plan it. The main room was full for two hours so I rented this private room, but I didn't ask for these decorations, really, believe me, I'm not predatory, I'm not like tha-" Kurt was cut off by a chortling Blaine.

"I thought I was supposed to be the rambling one." He said, still laughing. He noticed that Blaine was one of those people who smiled with their whole face, his eyes crinkled and his nose twitched, even his isosceles eyebrows were raised and trembled with a happy expression. "It's fine, Kurt. I don't mind." He said, his face now completely serious, but genuine at the same time.

"Really?" Kurt started, wanting to dig further into Blaine's life. "Have you ever uh..." Kurt didn't want to say it, but he couldn't back out now. Thankfully, Blaine caught on.

"Been with a guy? No. Perfect gold-star straight." He said, his lips curling into a small smile. As Kurt started to deflate, Blaine spoke again.

"But don't think I'm against... that, or anything. I mean I'm totally okay with the whole idea of being..." It seemed like Blaine was afraid of saying the word 'gay' for some reason, like saying the word would make him gay. In most cases, that was when Kurt would get stone-faced and say something like "Gay. It's just a word. You can say it." But somehow, he couldn't get the words out to the boy sitting in front of him.

"I'm glad you feel that way." Kurt got out, his throat feeling suddenly condensed. Blaine nodded, and their waitress arrived.

"Hi, my name is Kayla and I will be your waitress. May I get you both something to drink?" she asked, speaking like she was on a script. The thing Kurt liked best about this restaurant was that is was famous for the best coffee in New York City. Kurt was about to order his usual when Blaine spoke first.

"One medium drip for me and one non-fat grande mocha for my friend." Blaine piped, his voice unwavered. Kurt stared at him, open mouthed, as Blaine sat, calmly looking at the menu. Finally, he looked up to Kurt's awestruck stare.

"What?" Blaine said, genuinely ignorant.

"You... you, how did you?..." Kurt stuttered, his eyes the size of orbs with a mixture of amazement and curiosity.

"How did I know your coffee order? Oh, I don't know. You just look like a non-fat grande mocha kind of guy." Blaine said, his voice dismissively modest. Kurt wanted to ask more, but then Kayla arrived again, taking their food orders. Kurt owed his sanity to the fact that Blaine could not order his food for him.

After Kayla had left once more, kurt was left with a burning question, and courage jetting through his veins.

"Have you ever..." Kurt began his question, and ignored the sudden fear racing through his body. "Thought that you might be gay?"

* * *

Blaine didn't know how to answer this question. He needed to know if he loved Kurt, so if he said no there was no chance of them ever getting together. But at the same time, if he said yes, Santana might find out and his life would be over. But remembering Erik's advice, he took the plunge, no matter how scary or deep the water might be.

"Yes." Blaine said simply, and to his eternal gratefulness, Kayla walked in just then, bringing in their food. Kurt's eyes begged for elaboration, but Blaine felt like this subject was like domino's. Push one over and the rest fall down.

While they were eating, Blaine made it his mission to put off speaking as long as possible. When Kayla walked in to ask if they would like dessert, some of the music from the main room drifted in, wafting into Blaine's ears.

_"__Cause trying not to love you, only goes so far_

_And trying not to need you, is tearing me apart_

_Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor_

_And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for..."_

Blaine knew, despite how he may deny it, that he loved Kurt. He could either ignore the thoughts and push them away, or he could do the right thing and embrace them.

"Kurt..." he started, his palms clammy and his heart thudding in a way that made the rest of his body feel hollow. "I really... really like you..." Blaine said, not knowing where to take it from there.

"What's the 'but'?" Kurt asked, his face expectant of disappointment. Blaine took a deep breath.

"That's the thing. There is no 'but'." he said, his voice low and shameful. Kurt looked at him with wide eyes that plead him to go on.

"The thing is, there is no way, no matter how much I loved you, that we could be together." Blaine said assertively, but his eyes pled for another way. Anyway that, in this universe or another one, that he and Kurt could be together.

"I was so stupid." Kurt said quietly. Blaine was silent, not knowing what if anything he could say to reassure him that this had nothing to do with him, and it was all to do with Blaine. Before he could formulate a comforting sentence, Kurt screamed so loud, Blaine saw the flames hovering above the candles flicker "I WAS SO STUPID!" Kurt shouted standing up and forcefully pushing his chair under the table.

"No Kurt, you weren't." Blaine whispered, knowing silence could sometimes be louder than a scream.

"Yes I was! I knew you weren't gay, and even if you were you had Santana would would probably kill me and dance of my grave if she knew I had a crush on you, and it's not fair to you to have to pity me, and it's not fair that you had to eat dinner with me in this honeymooners room and-" Just then, half to get kurt to be quiet and half of his own involuntary accord, Blaine kissed Kurt. Full on the lips.

Blaine had never believed that lie that 'the perfect kiss will bring fireworks.' This kiss proved his skepticality because this was the perfect kiss, and there were no fireworks. Only streamers colored bright yellow, leaving a trail of bright, shining stars as they passed.

Blaine wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. The stars were too hypnotizingly pretty. Before he could muster the self-control to pull away, Kurt did first. He was about to protest when he remembered himself. Before he could comment on how much of a mistake that was, he saw Kurt was paper-white and his eyes were dilated, locked on the gaping door.

Rachel and Brody stood in the doorway, staring at Blaine's hand that was slowly dropping from Kurt's face.

* * *

**The song is 'Trying Not To Love You." by Nickleback. If there's any songs that you want featured in a chapter, review or PM me. :) Also, I'm curious, based on my writing, how old do you guys think I am? Review your answer. Just curious. :)**


	6. Never Dance Again

**FLOATING CHAPTER 6**

**NEVER DANCE AGAIN**

**BY: Notalone87**

_A/N Hey guys. the next chapter will be the epilogue. it's been a pleasure writing this for you, and I hope you've enjoyed it. :)_

* * *

Kurt sat in his room, staring at the off-white ceiling. The peeling paint was oddly mesmerizing, but his mind was far away from what he was staring at. After much thinking, and much pride swallowed. he realized he had never appreciated Rachel's annoying lectures as much as he did now. The only reason he valued the annoying voice of the brunette girl as much as he did at the moment was because he hadn't heard it nag him for almost a week.

Not only was he not getting lectures, no, he wasn't even getting sentences. Not one word had been addressed to Kurt since last Tuesday, when Rachel and Brody had caught Kurt and Blaine kissing.

It's not like Rachel was master of the house, but Kurt felt it was in everyone's best interest if he just stayed in his room until this all blew over. Rachel, catching onto this, left the apartment three times a day so Kurt could eat without her being around, at the risk of starting a *vocal* fight.

It sucked all the much more because as much as they wanted to give each other space, neither of them had much of a life outside the apartment, and the difference of a couple doors and walls between them just didn't seem like enough anymore.

Right on the dot of noon, Kurt heard the door slam, which was his cue to go get food. Escaping from his cave, Kurt trudged to the kitchen, his legs adapting to the sudden use. Poring through the fridge, Kurt finally settled on a can of soup that was so old, Kurt was pretty sure they hadn't even bought it, it was there when they got the house.

Boiling some water, Kurt leaned against the counter, wondering when life became this complicated and intricate. Part of him appreciated the elaborate beauty of it all, but the rest of him ached with regret. He had never had so many strings attached to any aspect of his life, much less his love life. It was almost like one of those rope mazes, where you get trapped in the middle, not escaping one rope without getting snared my another. He turned on the radio to maybe at least escape his mind for a little whil. Being entombed in your own body is the worst kind of imprisonment. The song on the radio, surprisingly, played without static, and the crisp, clear words wafted into Kurt's ears:

"_I'm never gonna dance again,_

_Guilty feet have got no rhythm._

_Though it's easy to pretend,_

_I know you're not a fool._

_I should have known better than to cheat a friend,_

_And waste a chance that I've been given._

_So I'm never gonna dance again,_

_The way I danced with you."_

Right at that moment as the song faded, the dregs of noise still floating around, Kurt know that whatever happened to him and Blaine, he had to sort out his problem with Rachel first. Even though the dancing thing was just a metaphor, it had opened kurt's eyes to a fear of losing rachel forever. Whether she wanted to hear it or not, and despite how annoying she could be, she was his priority. Always had been, and always will be.

* * *

All day, Blaine's heart had been comparable to cloth, ripping at the seams. Every ounce of his being ached and yearned to not only see and kiss Kurt again, but to come clean to Santana. Even if things did work out with Kurt, Blaine would never have a clean conscience until Santana knew the truth, no matter how deep a layer of crap it would get him in.

After six days of stalling and making internal excuses, Blaine finally walked into the living room with his head held high, but hands shaking and sweating. Santana was reading a book, her seemingly ignorant eyes scanning the pages. Blaine was breathing hard enough for Santana to realize his presence, but for some reason, she ignored him until he coughed declaratively.

The moment Santana looked up, Blaine's breath hitched and his entire body clammed up. His voice was entombed somewhere between his tongue and his throat. Santana was the most beautiful girl Blaine could ever dream of having. He could see spending the rest of his life with her, and starting a family. He liked the way her laugh rang out, and he liked the way her eyelashes felt fluttering against his arm. He liked so many things about her.

But he didn't - and would never love them.

"Santana... I need to tell you someth-" Blaine started, his voice quiet and severed, but Santana put him out of his misery and into a state of shock with two simple words:

"You're gay." She said simply, heaving her body with a shrug of her shoulders, and turned her eyes from the open mouthed Blaine back to her book. Before Blaine could even get so much as a strangled noise out of his condensed throat, Santana spoke again.

"I've know since I first saw you looking at Kurt, at that gig where you guys got your phones back." Santana said, and with the next sentence her eyes glazed over and her color rushed to her face. "You never looked at me like that." Her voice wavered, then cracked. Blaine never thought he would feel sorry for a girl like Santana, who could get anybody she wanted. But seeing the girl in front of him now, Blaine knew that the curse of unrequited love could hit anyone.

Anyone.

"Santana..." Blaine murmured, taking the now sobbing girl into his arms. No matter who he was, or who he loved, Santana had taught him things about love that he would truly value forever. And she really did still mean something to him. She had shown him that it was okay to let your guard down and trust.

And in the end, this moral had been what had been what had eventually hurt her the most.

Even as Santana's sobbing began to subside, Blaine didn't let go of his tight grip on her shoulders, half to keep her steady, half to keep himself steady, in all his confusion and lingering fear.

"So... Is this... Goodbye?" Santana sniveled, wiping tears from her mascara-stained cheeks. Blaine surprised even himself with his response.

"I really hope not." he said, without any trace of doubt in his voice. Santana looked confused, her wet face willing him to elaborate. Blaine needed to voice his eternal gratefulness for all Santana had taught him. She needed to know how much he valued her wisdom, her faithfulness, and her love. Even if that was soon just going to be in the past, he would never take advantage of the lessons he had learned, and he would never forget them.

"Well... In a way, yeah. This is goodbye. But in another perspective, it's not. Santana, you're my best friend. Even if I screwed up enough that you're not willing to continue the platonic side to our relationship, I will always remember it, and I will miss it. God, I'll miss it so much. Ever since I found out I was gay, above every other fear I had about telling anybody, losing you was the biggest one. You've taught me how to love, even if I never did love you. You've taught me things about trust, and hope, and compromise that I will value forever, with whoever I apply them with. I feel guilty taking your wisdom and using it with someone else, but I need you to know that I never learned it in vain, and will never use it in vain. I love you, Santana. Not in the way I desperately want to, but like I said, you're my best friend. And it would kill me if I lost you." Blaine ambled, his bronze eyes varnishing over with tears, redness flooding through his face. His skin felt somewhere in between on fire and numb, and he was sure that if time stopped, this is what it would feel like.

Santana broke into a new round of sobs, wrapping her arms around Blaine once more, but tighter. Blaine knew that the moment he stepped out of her door, he would be saying goodbye to this part of his life forever. And that would hurt, a lot. He might not even survive.

But it would worth it ten times over if he did.

* * *

Rachel had been gone all afternoon. Kurt had decided to wait for her in the living room, but an hour after she left, Brody said she had texted him to meet her for lunch, so Kurt had been all alone for four hours. He guessed they probably caught a movie or something, it was pouring rain away, getting a cab was probably next to impossible.

Kurt sat listlessly in different chairs, not able to stay settled for more than five minutes. He flipped on the TV repeatedly, only to immediately turn it off again each time. When he tried to read, the words swam around on the page like leaves in a pool. He let his mind drift, thinking if the door had been closed on him and Blaine forever. He didn't want it to be, but he knew that Rachel was, - had to be his utmost priority.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Kurt jumped, as this almost never happened. Both he, Brody and Rachel had keys, and they didn't have many friends that came over.

Kurt cursed himself for not making a peephole, and cautiously opened the door to find Blaine standing there, soaking wet.

"Oh my... Blaine?" Kurt said, gaping at the boy. He hadn't heard one word from him since he had escaped like a bat out of hell on Tuesday.

"Hey, Kurt..." Blaine muttered, trying to regain his breath, as if he'd been running. Kurt gestured him in, and immediately started a tea kettle.

"You know, Rachel and Brody will be home any minute." Kurt warned, measuring out water.

"No, they won't. I talked to them, they're crashing at a motel." Blaine stated plainly, sitting down on the nearest couch, immediately soaking it. 'That's why they'd been gone so long', Kurt thought. "Oh, by the way, I explained everything to Rachel. She forgives you." Kurt exhaled. Now that whatever burden that lingered on his conscience had faded, his slate was clean to be with Blaine, if he was okay with it, that is. But there was still one thing nagging Kurt.

"So why did you kick out my roommates and come over here in the pouring rain? Seems like a lot of trouble when we have a phone." Kurt mused, his tone cold. He was mad. He had ditched him after Blaine himself had kissed him. But more than that, he was the reason (by extension) why his best friend wasn't talking to him.

"I needed to say this in person." said Blaine, the edges of his voice a combination of nervous and cryptic, as if he wanted to pull Kurt in, but at the same time, he himself push out. His hesitance was more apparent than whatever forwardness he was showing.

"Say it. Whatever it is Blaine just fucking SAY IT!" Kurt shouted the last two words. He was so sick of this cupid tag. If they were going to be something, he wanted to know what and he wanted to know when. No more second guessing himself, no more waiting by the phone. It was either out with the truth or out with him.

"I love you. God, Kurt, I love you." Blaine whispered. Kurt didn't gasp, he wasn't even surprised. Oddly enough, he had guessed that was what Blaine was going to say. But after all this trouble, Kurt was not going to be playing easy. No, he was going to be a tease if it killed him. Or Blaine.

"Gimme your shirt. I'll find you something warm to wear." Kurt said, willing his voice to stay steady. Without responding, Blaine tore of his shirt, the fabric plastered to his wet skin. Kurt tossed him a towel while he pored through the drawers, and tried to stop himself from staring at the boy's bare torso."You wanna wear this?" Kurt chided with a smirk. The shirt said in bright orange letters: "I LIVED IN OHIO FOR 18 YEARS AND ALL I GET IS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT" Blaine guffawed, jumping on the humor like a wolf on red meat.

"Oh, God no. Why do you have that shirt? Why do you even want to remember Ohio at all? Why do you have that stupid shirt..." His voice catching on the last word as he took a step forward and pecked Kurt on his lips quickly, but with just enough passion to make it torturous to stop for both boys.

"Is it... okay? that I... did that?" Blaine stammered, obviously as desperate as Kurt, but with much more composure. Any anger that Kurt still possessed at the golden-eyed boy melted away. Kurt nodded as he reached in for another kiss.

Nobody ever talks about the 3rd kiss in a relationship. It's usually the first, but sometimes the second that people discuss. Nobody ever assumes that nothing has mattered until the third kiss. But that was the case for these boys.

The towel casually fell off Blaine's shoulders, leaving one boy half naked. But soon, Blaine started pulling at the hem of Kurt's shirt, and they broke the now- makeout session to pull it off. Their bare chests now pressed together, Kurt absentmindedly walked, while kissing, to his bedroom.

As soon as they both made it through the doorway, Kurt kicked the door closed, and they both toppled onto his bed in a series of giggles.

"Are we doing this?" Blaine croaked nervously, but a sinful smile tugging at his lips.

"I think so." Kurt said, pulling down whatever layers weren't shed. They both laughed into another kiss, and Kurt turned off the lights, but they could still see each other from the light of Blaine's beautiful, golden eyes.

* * *

_A/N Stay tuned for the epilogue, guys. I love you guys, it had truly been amazing writing this. I never thought I'd stick with it. Thank you so much from the bottom of my broken heart *cough* 4x22 *cough* ;)_

_Oh, and the shirt/kissing scene was inspired by the movie Adventureland. "Why do you have that shirt... Why do you have that stupid shirt..." :)_

_REVIEWWWW PLEASEEEEEEEE_


	7. Epilogue

**Floating**

**Chapter 7: Epilogue**

**By: Notalone87**

_A/N No sad goodbyes, okay? I'm going to start a new fic soon. This is the first story that I really stuck with, and 11,000 words for me is... Wow. thank you all for sharing this journey with me. Stay tuned for more stories, they will be coming soon! :)_

* * *

When the two boys woke up the next morning, they just looked at each other. They lay there, feeling nothing but sated. After both of them having a lifetime of feeling wrong and whomperjawed, it was nice to feel right for once. From that moment on, both of their definitions of 'right' begin with being in the other's arms.

Neither of them knew that in just a few short years, they would be a family. That they would walk down the aisle together, with Rachel and Santana sitting side by side, watching, complementing the other's dress all through the vows. They didn't know that they would ever refer to the other as their 'soulmate'. They never knew that they would have the privilege of sharing sweet nothings with each other, such as getting handmade handprint drawings from their two daughters, or being able to enjoy eating fondue together at the after party of both their Broadway shows. They didn't know anything that morning except for the raw truth and reality of the other.

All they knew was that all was well.


End file.
